Year Four (Kingmakers, #4)

by Sophie Lark

“Sabrina Gallo . . .” the Chancellor says softly. “Cousin to Leo Gallo and Miles Griffin.” “That’s right,” Sabrina says, chin up-tilted. “I’m beginning to regret extending admission to any of your family,” he says. “This is not a school for the meek and submissive,” Sabrina says. “No,” the Chancellor agrees. “But it is a school, and you will follow my rules while you are here. Or you will reap the consequences. Is that understood?” “Yes,” Sabrina says. “Absolutely.” I nod. “Good,” he says. And then, his black eyes fixing on me. “You can start with your uniform.”

“There’s two kinds of men in the world,” she says. “The kind who want to hurt you . . . and the kind who want to be persuaded by you.”

The loathing that boils up inside of me is immediate and intense. She looks like her father.

“I do intend to be a benevolent queen. Unless somebody fucks with me.”

“How’s class, kiddo?” Leo says, reaching out a long-fingered hand to ruffle Sabrina’s hair. She nimbly slips his grasp, falling into pace next to Hedeon instead. Hedeon pretends not to notice, but pulls his shoulders back all of a sudden, standing taller. “Class is great,” Sabrina replies. “I knew you guys were exaggerating when you said Kingmakers was hard.” “Or you’re just smarter than us, is that what you’re saying?” Leo laughs, shaking a finger at her. “I dunno.” Sabrina grins at him wickedly, “Can the same cousin be the smartest AND the best looking?” “No fucking way are you the best-looking cousin!” Leo scoffs, genuinely offended. “You don’t care if I’m the smartest, though,” Sabrina snorts. “Fuck no,” Leo says. “That’s why I’ve got Anna here, in case I need to fill out a crossword puzzle.”

Hedeon Gray has been digging for clues about his biological parents. I could tell him everything he wants to know. Instead I have to pretend to be his friend, his confidante, while secretly blocking him from ever discovering the truth—yet another task assigned to me that I loathe.

“I used to come in here to blow off steam . . .” he grins. “Now I’m just trying to look good for Cat.” I laugh. “I don’t think you have to worry about that,” I say.

She looks like a mermaid taking human form. The ancient kind of mermaid—mysterious and malevolent, luring sailors to their death beneath the cold, dark waves. I hate her, and yet I’m transfixed by her. I see her father’s height, his coloring . . . Her body is all long, smooth lines: strong shoulders, athletic taper to her waist, and an endless stretch of thighs beneath the high-cut legs of the school swimsuit. I’ve never seen a girl look so powerful. I don’t want her powerful. I want to destroy everything she knows and loves.

Marko Moroz is a master at hiding who he really is until it’s too late. His daughter must be the same.

“How come you’re being all chummy with that Malina brat? I thought you knew what a fucking snake her father is?” “I don’t care about her father,” I say. The biggest lie yet. “You should,” Bram says darkly. I can feel Dean watching me.

“I like Nix,” I say to Bram. “She didn’t do anything to you. So quit giving her shit.” “It’s not me you have to worry about,” Bram says. “Her own cousins hate her fucking guts.” “Oh man, I wonder what that feels like?” Leo says. Dean laughs—still a relatively new sound, coming from him. “What kind of a dick hates his own cousin?” he says.

I, too, am supposed to be just like my father. And I want to be. I want it desperately. I just don’t know if I am.

“How is she related to Ilsa Markov?” he asks Cat. “Ilsa’s grandfather and Evalina’s father were brothers. And guess what Evalina’s father’s name was?” Cat says, throwing a triumphant glance at Ares. “What?” Ares says dully. “Hedeon Markov,” Cat replies, in the tone of a slamming book. Ares shrugs like that doesn’t prove anything, but Hedeon and I both gape at Cat, suitably impressed. Cat says, “I could see a girl, forced to give away her baby, wanting him to have a family name, since he wouldn’t have her surname.”

“You take one single drop of blood from my son, and I’ll answer it with a gallon of yours,” she snarled in perfect Russian.

I’m not sorry when Hedeon Markov interrupts us, accompanied by his son Kristoff, his daughter Evalina, and her fiancé Donovan Dryagin.

She’s pulling her insane curls back into a ponytail so thick that she can barely get her hand around it. The elastic band does its best, but snaps after one twist. “Goddamnit!” Nix curses. “Don’t worry, I’ve got one,” Sabrina says, taking the band off her wrist and passing it over to Nix. Nix successfully completes the ponytail, though the elastic is straining like a waistband at an all-you-can-eat buffet. She sees me staring. “Just . . . zip it,” she tells me. “I’m not in control of this hair.” I can’t help laughing. “Have you ever tried cutting it?” I say. “Yes.” Nix scowls. “It broke the scissors.” I can’t tell if she’s joking.

Sabrina’s body is insane. I try to avoid watching her change clothes so I don’t suffer a heart attack.

Sabrina is sex incarnate. The way she walks, the way she stands, the sultry rasp of her voice . . . even the Chancellor couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“If you can hold me down and cum in me, I’ll carry another baby for you.” I would never mix my seed with a lesser woman. I want children from her, and no one else. Sloane has already born me a son, a strong and handsome child, as intelligent as his mother and as disciplined as myself. Now I want a daughter as beautiful and vicious as Sloane.

“You didn’t poison his drink, did you?” I ask her. “No,” she says. “Though I was tempted.” I put my hands on her shoulders, gently massaging the tense muscle at the base of the neck until she relaxes slightly. She turns to face me. “I don’t like him,” she says, dark eyes fixed on my face. “He reminds me of my father—that same edge of madness. He’s got one foot in the real world, and one in his own head.” I sigh. “I wish you were there to tell me that in the prison camp.” Sloane stands on tiptoe to bring her lips to mine. “It doesn’t matter,” she says. “Your alliance with him is over. We can be ‘friends’ at a distance.”

“Opposites attract,” she says, smiling slightly. “Do you think that’s true?” I ask her. “Sure,” she says, her eyes locking on mine once more, Hedeon and Cara forgotten. “I’d never want to be with someone with my same flaws.” “What flaws?” I laugh. “Horrible temper, obviously. Always blurting out stupid things . . .” “Not stupid,” I correct her. “Just honest.” “I’m a grudge holder, too,” she admits. “My father never forgives. And I think . . . I’m too much like him.” My stomach clenches. “What would you hold a grudge about?” I ask her. “I hate being lied to,” she says, her green eyes looking into mine, unbearably clear and direct. “It’s why I’ve been so angry with my father since I came here. I thought he was honest with me. And now I realize there’s things he didn’t tell me. Lies of omission are still lies.” I have the horrible, panicked feeling that she knows. That she’s talking about me, not her father. “Honesty can be difficult,” I say, through stiff lips. “Not everyone knows themselves as well as you.” “He knows his reputation, whether he agrees with it or not,” Nix says, angrily, bright spots of color in her cheeks. “He could have warned me.” I let out a breath. She really does mean her dad. “Well, he let you come here at least.” “I’d like to see him stop me,” Nix says, her color only rising. If anyone could fight Marko Moroz tooth and claw, I think it’s his daughter.

“Where are you taking me?” Nix asks, noting the pairs and trios of students who have already crept off this way to find a secluded spot for their intimate activities. “Don’t worry, I’m not trying to seduce you,” I say. Possibly another lie.

“Are you trying to date me Ares, or are we just friends? I can’t read you as well as some people.” Because I confuse her on purpose. Because I’m not Ares at all. “We can’t date,” I say. “Why not?” My jaw twitches. “I don’t think your father would like that.” “Do you care what he wants? Or what I want?” Through the thin silk of her trousers, I can feel her blood rushing, right under my palms. I know her heart is beating as hard as mine. “What do you want, Nix?” I ask her. “I want you to kiss me.” I look into her eyes. Do I even remember how to do this? I see her lips part, ever so slightly. I lean forward, closing the space between us.

“Alright,” she says. “Now I know you like me.” “Yes,” I say. “I do.” There’s no lie in that.

“Have you fucked him yet?” Sabrina asks, noisily biting into a carrot stick. We’re sitting on our respective beds, ostensibly studying, but actually just shooting the shit. My books are spread out all around me. Sabrina hasn’t bothered to open hers. She’s eating a selection of snacks smuggled up from the dining hall, heedless of the impressive mess she’s making. “No,” I say, flushing. “And not by choice. He’s driving me insane . . .” “Yeah, he’s hot as hell,” Sabrina agrees, nodding approvingly. “I’m not usually into the strong, silent type, but you can tell he’s kinky as fuck under that buttoned-up exterior.” “You think so?” I say hopefully. “I don’t know why he’s holding out on me . . .” Sometimes Ares looks at me like he wants to rip my clothes to shreds and eat me alive. But . . . he never actually does it. He’s barely kissed me since that first time on the beach. “Since when are you the type to sit around waiting?” Sabrina says, giving me a sly raise of one inky eyebrow. “Since fucking never,” I say, shoving my books aside. “That’s my girl.” Sabrina grins.

I’m remembering a rumor I heard once, that there was some kind of romantic connection between Miss Robin and Ares . . . I thought it was funny at the time—just one of those things people say, jokes and speculation to enliven a boring school day. Miss Robin is in her forties at least, maybe even fifty. Seeing her now, it doesn’t seem as ridiculous. She has a powerful presence at odds with her loose, knobby cardigans and thick stockings. Not to mention the fact that Ares seems distinctly uncomfortable, glancing back and forth between us.

“You look like if autumn was a person,” he says, taking one wild red curl between his thumb and index finger. “You look like if the woods came alive. And they were extremely competitive.” He grins.

I’ve never had someone worship my body with their mouth.

“I love being out here with you. I haven’t felt this good in a long time.” “I don’t know if I’ve ever felt this good,” I say. I know I’ve never been this happy.

“I don’t trust him,” she says, her dark eyes furious and resentful. “He’ll stab you in the back, Ivan. You know he’s jealous—you still have your wife and children.” “And he still has his daughter,” I remind her. “So he has something to lose, too.” Sloane frowns, not letting go of my hand. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her frightened before. Not even when I had her locked in the cells beneath this monastery, when we were not yet well acquainted. “Why are you smiling?” she demands. “I was only thinking, if you failed to kill me, there’s no fucking way that Marko could pull it off.” Sloane laughs, though I know she doesn’t want to. “Sometimes I think we’re invincible, because what you and I have can’t be killed,” she says. “Still . . . be careful, my love.” I kiss her hard. “Nothing could keep me from coming back to you.” Sloane only agrees to stay with our children because Dominik will be with me to watch my back. I’m sure he endured a similarly tense parting from Lara. Their youngest son Kade is a curious child who gets into everything, and his older brother Adrik grows wilder by the day. If all goes as planned, we shouldn’t be gone for long.

“You can have your revenge,” I repeat. “But only on the guilty. Not the innocent.”

“Someday you’ll kneel before me, as I kneel before you now,” he says, teeth grinding together like stone on stone. “You’ll beg and plead for my mercy. And I’ll remind you that we could have been brothers . . . that I held out the hand of friendship to you, before you spat in my face.” Marko spits on the wooden boards of the farmhouse, never taking his eyes off of mine. “It’s because we were friends that I don’t kill you,” I tell him. “My debt is paid to you. All bonds between us are cut. You have your city, I have mine—don’t come to St. Petersburg again, or there will be no mercy for either of us.” I leave him there, with the body of Taras Holodryga and the unarmed Malina.

I want to be myself with Nix, I don’t want to be Ares. I want her to know me, not him. I want to fuck her as myself.

I haven’t been going to see my mother as much. If she sees my face, she’ll read me like a book. I have to tell her about the dance, however. She’ll almost surely attend herself. Especially since by this point she knows all the staff and has no fear of running into someone who might recognize her like Sasha Drozdov did. So I visit her the day before the dance, knowing she’s sure to give me shit for trying to avoid her. “Who’s that?” she says, pretending to peer through her fake glasses. “I don’t recognize you—have we met before?” “Ha, ha,” I say, and then quietly, because a library is one of the only places where you can whisper something without looking suspicious, “You told me not to visit too often, remember?” “I think you’ve just been busy,” she murmurs, pretending to sort a pile of returned books “Doing such a careful job with your assignment.” I sigh, wondering if there’s any point in denying it. “Do you not want me to take her to the dance?” “Oh, I absolutely think you should,” my mother replies. Her voice is at its lowest and most dangerous. My heart squeezes in my chest. I’m not saying I’m afraid of my mother, but I also wouldn’t fucking underestimate her. Cautiously, I ask, “You’re not worried that I’m getting too close to her?” “Oh, I know you are,” she says softly, setting down the last book and looking up at me at last. Her eyes are dark and gleaming, steady as they’ve ever been. “I know you’re getting too close to her, Ares. And I also want you to know that I ...

“Nobody cleans up better than you,” she says. “You look hot as fuck.” “Likewise, obviously,” I tell her. “But you already know that.” “I do,” she says, giving me a wink. She’s definitely outdone herself. She slips out the door looking so sultry that I figure I better start aiming for second place.

“No one is ever going to hurt you while I’m with you, do you understand?” Ares says, grabbing both my arms and forcing me to turn to look at him. “Do you understand me, Nix?” “Yes. I understand,” I say, startled by the wild look in his eyes. Shaking my head, I tell him, “Most people aren’t too worried whether I can take of myself. Only one person talks like that—you sound like my dad.” Ares stares at me. “I’m not like your father,” he says. “I know that. But right now, you remind me of him—protective. And a little bit out of your fucking mind.” Ares starts walking again, taking deep breaths to try to calm down. I can’t tell if he’s still pissed at Estas, or if what I said offended him.

“What do you think is the dividing line between good and bad?” He looks at me, his expression serious. “What do you think makes someone worthy of friendship . . . or worthy of death?” He sees me hesitate, lips parted. “I’m not trying to trick you,” he says. “I’m not asking about your father. I just want to know—what’s the line?” I wonder that myself. When I picture the people I know and love—my friends at school, my father’s men, and my dad himself—I can’t create a consistent schema for judgment. They all have their flaws. They all make mistakes. When I ponder what’s “right” and what’s “wrong,” I only know what I’d do myself. I look Ares in the eye and say, “I’ll kill anyone who hurts the people I love.” Ares nods slowly. “So will I,” he says. That sounds strangely like a promise. Like he’s warning me.

“I’d spend a lot more time in the gym if that was the workout,” Ares groans. “Don’t forget to wipe down that bench,” I tell him. We both start laughing, helpless and slightly hysterical, clutching abs that are much too sore for any more activity.

I haven’t seen the sky or felt wind on my face since I came to this place. But I would pass the rest of my days in darkness if I could see my wife one last time. I’ve been torn in half. The other part of me is wandering, searching . . . longing for me as I’m longing for her. I know she’s looking for me. I know it as well as I know my own thoughts. Sloane will never give up on me. And I will never stop trying to come home to her. I made a promise to her. And I always keep my promises. I miss my children almost as badly. My only comfort is that they have their mother with them and Dominik to help protect them. It’s Sloane I worry about. She’ll drive herself to death looking for me. She’ll take any risk. I worry about her survival more than my own. I can’t bear being locked up in here when she might need me out there.

“Ivan,” he says. “Still here,” I reply. “Still alive.” Kuzmo is holding the phone to my ear. I’m not allowed to touch it, even under the scrutiny of all these men. “Are you well, brother?” Dom says. “Of course. And you?” “Very well. Business runs smooth. The deposit will be sent as usual.” “Good, thank you. I keep busy here, too. Reading in the morning. Then,” a short pause, “I spend evenings exercising so no opportunity wastes.” “Good, brother. Keep it up,” Dom says. Kuzmo pulls the phone away before I can say anything else. No matter. I told Dominik what I needed to say.

I never knew I could miss someone like I miss my dad. I never knew how much I relied on him. He was always there to tell me what I should do. Giving me a sense of security even in a world as chaotic and violent as ours. I always knew he’d keep us safe. And he did—the night the Malina attacked us, he offered up his own life so we could escape, providing cover while we fled on the boat. But he didn’t die. The Malina shot him, captured him, and dragged him off to a cell in some desolate place, in some unknown country. We’ve been searching for him ever since.

It’s a picture of my father and her, dancing at a wedding—I don’t know whose. My father is spinning her around, her hand up-stretched and his arm the axis. My mother’s head is thrown back. She’s laughing, her skirt flared around her legs like a bloom around the stem of a flower. My father is staring at her like he’s never seen anything more captivating. He’s grinning like the luckiest man in the world. “Freya said he kept it in his desk, face-up in the top drawer, so he’d see it whenever he—” “Yes,” my mother says softly. “I remember.” She can’t take her eyes off my father’s face. I know she has pictures of him hidden upstairs. But she’s looking at this one like she’s seeing my father in the flesh, standing before her now. “There’s no one else for me, and there never could be,” she says quietly. “I know, Mom.” She looks up, startled, like she forgot I was there. “Thank you,” she says. “I’ll keep this safe for him. It’s his favorite.”

“We won’t need Nix, then,” I say. My mother turns to look at me, her gaze sharp and unyielding. “Nix is coming with us,” she says. “As insurance.” Now my heart drops down to my toes. What my mother means is, if Marko Moroz puts a bullet in my father’s head, she’ll do the same to his daughter.

“Did you see Sabrina Gallo dancing with Ilsa Markov?” he says. “Yeah.” I nod, my cock trying to stir at the memory of Nix sandwiched between the two girls, Ilsa Markov cupping her breasts from behind while she took Sabrina’s face in her hands and kissed her . . . “Pretty hard to miss it,” I say. Hedeon nods. “Everyone was watching. Including the Chancellor.” My stomach does a long, slow flip. “Well,” I say, with a fake chuckle. “He’s only human.” “He was talking to Sabrina after the Quartum Bellum,” Hedeon says. “And he let her off easy the first day of school, after she clocked Estas.” “He didn’t punish Nix, either,” I say, trying to hide my pounding pulse. “I think he’s got a thing for her,” Hedeon insists. I take three slow breaths, my brain racing behind my dull expression. “So what if he does?” “I think he has a type,” Hedeon says. “He likes them young. Dark-haired. And wild. Just like my mother.” The silence stretches between us, Hedeon’s angry stare drilling into me, with all the heat of his long-suppressed rage. “If he’s your father . . .” I say, “Then what are you going to do?” With calm surety, Hedeon replies, “I’m going to kill him.”

All I know is that I would offer my body and soul to save my wife, my daughter, or my son. They are more precious to me than myself. While my deepest wish is to see them again and hold them in my arms, I would never risk a hair on their heads to make that happen.

The Chancellor thought he covered up his little indiscretion so cleanly. He seduced Evalina Markov. Impregnated her—accidentally I would assume. When she could no longer hide her belly under baggy school pullovers, he ferried her off the island on his private boat and sequestered her in a hospital in Dubrovnik. Shortly after the birth, he carried the baby away, never to be seen by its mother again. Evalina Markov flew home to St. Petersburg, surprising her father, brother, and fiancé with her unexpected arrival. She told them she no longer cared to finish her schooling. Donovan Dryagin was only too happy to move up the long-awaited wedding date. None of the men seemed to notice the difference in her figure or demeanor. Only my mother, having just gone through the same process of pregnancy herself, noted the tell-tale signs: the darker pigment on Evalina’s face, the bulge of her slowly shrinking uterus, and the aching breasts that likely were still producing milk the night of my parents’ party. My mother liked Evalina Markov. She had no interest in exposing the girl’s secret.

“Let me do you,” I say. “I don’t think you can hold your breath as long,” she says. “Fucking drown me, then.”

“I love you,” I say. “I want you to know that. Now, tonight.” She looks at me, searching my face. “Is that true?” “It’s the truest thing I’ve ever said.” “I’ve never been in love before,” she says. “But I don’t know what else to call this feeling.” She kisses me again, hungry as ever. I don’t care if this is wrong. I don’t care that I have no right. I need her, and I love her.

“I’m not Ares. My name is Rafe Petrov. My father is Ivan Petrov. He’s been imprisoned for three and a half years. Tomorrow, I finally bring him home.” Leo and Hedeon stare at me with near-equal expressions of astonishment. “Okay . . . that is not what I was expecting you to say,” Leo remarks. Despite the fact that the night has been a fucking disaster, and I’ve now involved two more people in this mess, I feel the strangest sense of lightness, like my bones have been replaced with helium. I’m finally telling the truth.

I meet Kade behind the Keep at 9:30. I expect him to come alone, but instead he’s accompanied by Dean Yenin. Without preamble, Kade says, “I told him everything.” “What?” I hiss. “You had no right to do that.” “Yes I did,” Kade says, his expression stubborn. “This has affected my family almost as much as yours. Dean’s my friend. I trust him.” Dean regards me coolly, one blond eyebrow raised. “I should have known you were a Petrov when you knocked my fuckin’ head sideways,” he says. I take a deep breath, trying to remain calm while panic spirals inside me. This thing is already out of control and it’s barely even started. “Look,” I say to Dean. “I appreciate how you’ve helped Kade, and the information you gave us about Danyl Kuznetsov. But this isn’t your concern.” “Yes it is,” Dean says. “I owe service to Danyl. I’ve allied myself with your family instead. I’m already involved. I’ve given you my loyalty—I need yours in return.” My nails dig into my palms. “You understand the risks in this—” “Yes,” Dean says. “I understand.” I sigh. “Alright. Leo and Hedeon are coming—meet them inside, at the door by the tapestry.” I give Kade the Chancellor’s keyring. “In fact, wait for me inside the staircase so nobody sees you.” I swallow hard. “I’ve got to go get Nix.”